


ash from your fire

by roseweasley394



Series: Moments Like These [28]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Death Eaters, F/M, Friendship, Heavy Angst, Hogwarts Third Year, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseweasley394/pseuds/roseweasley394
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy understood death more at fourteen years old than most people did in their entire lifetime. He knew what it was to die, he’d only hoped that he wouldn’t have to find out so soon.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy & Rose Weasley
Series: Moments Like These [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780003
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	ash from your fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is an idea I've had spinning about in my head for a while and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> ***TW: references to death, being held against one's will, & being pinned down.

* * *

Scorpius Malfoy had grown up very loved. He was doted on by his adoring mother and was the pride and joy of his anxious father. His early years were spent in a hazy sort of glow, for all he had needed was his mum and his dad. Yet as he’d grown older, his father had given him glimpses of a world that seemed so different from his own; a world ebbed in darkness and destruction, where children had died on a battlefield made from the sins of their father’s.

Scorpius entered Hogwarts feeling much older than his eleven years. He knew the untold side of a war that had ruined the very best of their society, that his family had played a hand in ripping apart countless others. His own father had done and seen things that were unforgivable and it was insisted upon that Scorpius knew this before embarking upon the most important seven years of his life.

Unfortunately, not many other former Death Eaters raised their children in this way. So, even knowing what he did, Scorpius’s first few years of school were far from easy. His sorting into Gryffindor hadn’t made things any better, his status of being an easy target elevated more than any other student in his year. Befriending the Weasley-Potter clan had not been the plan, far from it actually. But Rose and Albus had taken him in like a stray puppy and in them, he had found the best friends a person could ask for.

He closed his eyes tightly and sucked in a breath, anything to forget himself if only for a moment. It didn’t help, of course; laughs and jeers could be heard over the mind-numbing pain racking his body. He was trying so very hard not to cry, to be strong like the Gryffindor he was. He was realizing quickly though that no amount of bravery was going to get him through this and his tears fell bitterly.

Only hours prior his biggest issue had been suppressing his ever-growing feelings for the redheaded fireball known as Rose Weasley. It had seemed the most important thing in the world, for how was he supposed to treat her like his best mate when her laughter made his insides do backflips? What he would give to go back and throttle himself, for the signs of what were to come were staring him straight in the face. His father had taught him to be perceptive. But of course, he’d chosen blind naivety as opposed to seeing what was right in front of him.

There was a group of them that had always given him a hard time. Zabini, Nott, Flint, all former friends of his father whose parents hadn’t gotten off as easy after the war. People were bitter, resentful towards the Malfoys and Scorpius had known as much for as long as he could remember.

He’d been stupid enough to assume things were getting better. He hadn’t been stuffed into a broom cupboard since term had begun almost 3 months ago and had taken the notion as a sign of maturity from the other boys. Maybe they’d realized that he wasn’t his father after all.

But now, as he lay in the dark of his dormitory, throat raw from agonized screams and choked cries, he understood what his father had meant when he’d told a young Scorpius that death was cruel and unforgiving.

The moon looked particularly cruel, he thought, as it shined through the thin curtain of the window nearest him. How could something so distant seem so tantalizingly close? He figured that the moon had never felt pain like this, like it was being torn apart at the very seams. He thought that the walls should’ve burst with the weight of his screams. Arms and legs somehow glued to his mattress, he was only able to jerk rigidly, head lolling to the side as the pain almost became too much.

He was going to pass out again he knew it. But if he passed out, would he ever wake up? He’d never known pain like this and he was sure that no one could have ever survived it. His eyes were slipping closed, not even the agonizing fire in his left arm could jolt him awake this time. He thought briefly of Rose, with her fiery hair and unapologetic compassion. He wasn’t sure that fourteen-year-olds could be in love, but he decided he was pretty close to it.

Suddenly the room grew quiet. Maybe he had died already? That hadn’t been hard at all, almost as easy as falling asleep. He dimly noted that someone was screaming and he was vaguely surprised to hear that it wasn’t him. If he had the energy, he would have laughed at the feeling of his shoulders being jostled. He figured his ride to purgatory would be bumpy at best. His father had always joked as much.

But wait, this couldn’t be death, he decided. Not when he could feel the weight of someone on top of him. They were saying something, he could feel the heat of their breath on his cheeks. He wondered who it was. As he tried to open his eyes, his body decided that it had had enough for one night. Darkness overcame him.

***

When he came to he had the distinct feeling that he hadn’t been asleep for very long. Instantly he cringed at the aching in his chest. It felt like someone had taken the wind out of him repeatedly and even inhaling caused him to wince. He flexed his fingers instinctively, stretching to find his wand but gasped a sharp pain in his left arm shot through him; it was enough to make his breath catch and his eyes water, his whole arm practically pulsating with the pain of it. Eyes darting to either side, he realized that he was in the hospital wing and that strangely enough, his mother and father were staring at him intently, faces drawn in horror.

He didn’t have the energy to comfort his mum as she cried at his bedside. He stared straight ahead as she grasped onto his hand and told him through choked sobs how much she loved him.

He looked to his father and pulled a face, fully expecting him to react similarly to his mother’s dramatics. But his father didn’t laugh, he just stared his son in the face, tears sliding down his cheeks languidly. Scorpius’s heart plummeted. His mum, well, seeing her cry wasn’t much of a shock. But his dad? He’d never seen his father cry. Not when their house-elf had passed away, not when their shop had been burnt to the ground, not even when his grandmother had fallen sick. But now, his dad was crying and it scared Scorpius more than he could verbalize.

He was about to speak, about to convince his parents that he was alright, but suddenly Madame Henry parted the curtains around his cot and gestured to both of his parents. “Professor McGonagall is ready to see you both.”

His mother wiped at her cheeks quickly and his father cleared his throat sharply. “We’ll be back soon, son. We just need to speak with the headmistress.”

Scorpius noted mutely as his mother smoothed his hair and pressed a kiss to his head. Once his parents had gone Madame Henry bustled around adjusting his sheets. She then flicked her wand and an array of potions came racing towards her.

“Take these, will you?” She prompted gently. “The burns will heal soon as will the spell damage. Nothin’ I can do about the mark though, you poor dear.”

She patted his hand as he swallowed the contents of three vials, gagging after each. With another flick of her wand, she conjured up a jug of water and a cup, placing them at his bedside.

“You’ll be fallin’ asleep soon enough. Shame this happened to you. I’ll be back to check in on ya in a bit. Sleep well, poppet.”

As he watched her leave he couldn’t help but become angry at the look of pity she’d directed at him. He didn’t need her sympathy. He was fine. He was going to be fine. The night seemed like a bit of a bad dream anyway; maybe he could just pretend as such. Just as he was about to succumb to sleep, a familiar voice ripped through the silence.

“Get - out - of - my - way,” Rose Weasley cried, each word separated with the sound of her seemingly struggling against somebody.

“Rose,” said another familiar voice. Scorpius was surprised to hear the usually joyful herbology professor sounding so solemn. “Madame Henry already told you that you can visit him in the morning. He needs rest.”

“No!” She cried, her voice cracking. “I need to see him tonight.”

“I know that this must be difficult,” Professor Longbottom began, the remorse in his voice evident. “But if you don’t obey Professor McGonagall’s wishes I’ll have to write to your father.”

“Write to him then, I don’t bloody care.”

Scorpius was shocked to hear her speaking to a professor this way, specifically Longbottom. He’d been a family friend to the Weasleys and Rose had grown up knowing him; hearing her defy him was surprising.

“Rose,” Professor Longbottom said bracingly.

“Please,” she choked, her sob echoing throughout the near-empty room.

Scorpius heard the older man sigh deeply. “Alright,” he began quietly. “You have half an hour, but you can’t tell the Headmistress I allowed this.”

Scorpius heard the scurry of feet racing across the floor and before he could so much as sit up the curtains were being ripped open, a mess of fiery red curls filling his vision.

“Scorpius!”

“I’m alright,” Scorpius said scratchily, bursting into a brutal coughing fit. Clearly, all of the screaming had done a number on his throat. Without a word she made a beeline for the water jug, blinking rapidly as she passed him a full cup.

“Rose,” he croaked, sending himself into yet another fit of hacking coughs.

She patted his back feebly and wiped at her cheeks in impatience. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

This caused him to grin for what felt like the first time in days. “Yeah, me too.”

“We were all so scared,” she continued, eyes filling with tears yet again. “Hugo was crying and James looked like he’d seen a ghost and then I saw you and I thought-”. She stopped abruptly, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m just so happy you’re alright. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t.”

“Lucky we don’t have to find that one out, yeah?” He joked, his throat beginning to feel the slightest bit better. She didn’t laugh though, didn’t even smile, just sat in the chair closest to him and straightened her shoulders as if in preparation.

“Scorpius,” she said softly, sliding her hand into his, causing his stomach to erupt in butterflies. “What happened tonight?”

His left arm began to pulsate at her words. She didn’t need to know, did she? It was disgusting, the whole thing and he didn’t much care to retell it, especially not to her. She was too good for all of this, didn’t deserve to be plagued by all the baggage that he came with. He was about to tell her so too but she seemed to anticipate it and spoke again.

“You’re going to have to tell McGonagall eventually, you know,” she shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “Might as well practice now.”

As he looked into her beautiful ocean eyes, he knew there was no use refusing her. He couldn’t resist her, had never been able to for that matter. And if he were being completely honest with himself, she was the one person he wouldn’t mind telling. She would listen intently and believe everything he said. She would make things better as she always did. And so, he started from the beginning.

He had sensed something was off as soon as he stepped into his dormitory. For one, the curtains were drawn which was strange seeing as Thomas, the squeaky Irish bloke who slept two beds away from him, always insisted on them staying open. Something about enjoying the moonlight he claimed.

Scorpius had hardly given the windows much thought though because suddenly, he couldn’t do much of anything: couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The pain was so intense that he’d hardly processed it before he blacked out.

When he came to it didn’t take long for him to realize what was going on. Not with a cloaked figure at the door, one holding him down, and another sitting at his left arm, wand in hand, eyes looking anywhere but his.

They’d gotten down to it quite quickly, the tip of Zabini’s wand slowly carving what felt like fire into his flesh. Scorpius screamed. He knew that they’d probably put silencing charms over the room, but he screamed anyway, calling for anyone at all to save him. It didn’t take away from the pain, but it gave him a reason to stay awake. Maybe someone would hear him. Maybe they’d get help. Maybe it would all end soon.

As he faded in and out of consciousness he noticed how scared all three of the boys looked. It was clear that they weren’t enjoying themselves and he almost pitied them. Paying for the sins of their fathers just as he was. But then he’d beg for them to stop, swearing that he wouldn’t turn them into McGonagall if they just let him go, and they’d use some curse he’d never heard of on him until he passed out. Scorpius ran out of pity quite quickly.

It felt like it had gone on for hours but he knew that was ridiculous. Surely it hadn't been more than 30 minutes, right? At one point near the end he’d been convinced he was dying. But by some miracle, he’d been rescued and that was that. He didn’t know how, but he’d managed to survive.

“And then I don’t really know what happened,” Scorpius finished. “I thought I was dead. It had all stopped and I thought I had died.”

Inwardly, he knew how hollow his voice sounded; void of emotion haunted even. It scared him. He looked to Rose knowing that she heard it too. Tears were running down her cheeks in heated, messy pathways and her hand was clamped over her mouth in horror.

“I’m so sorry, Scorpius.”

He shrugged, wincing as his left arm brushed against the blankets atop his lap. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

“I could have been there.”

“No,” he said with a sigh. “You couldn’t have. Besides, I got rescued eventually, didn’t I?”

He hated seeing that look on her face. It wasn’t pity, she thought more of him than that. It wasn’t even horror because how could she be scared when he was sitting right in front of her? No, it was rage. Pure, unadulterated rage, and horror at the fact that this had even happened at all.

“Do you know who it was? The person who managed to get me out of there? I’d like to thank them,” Scorpius said suddenly, ripping her away from her thoughts.

“It was Hugo,” she said as she sprung to her feet, walking to his bedside to fix another glass of water. She needed to keep her hands busy because if not she would keep visualizing squeezing the life out of Zabini.

“What?” This certainly wasn’t what he’d expected to hear at all.

“It was Hugo, he’s the one that stopped it.”

This was perhaps the biggest shock of the night. Little Hugo Granger-Weasley had saved his life?

“He was trying to sleep,” she began. “But he said he kept hearing thumping from your dorm which is above his. He was going to tell you to shove off and when the door wouldn’t open he panicked.”

This confused Scorpius greatly. “A locked door could have meant loads of things.”

“We don’t lock doors in our house,” Rose shrugged, wiping at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “Locked doors mean bad things, at least that’s what dad’s always saying. It’s really just because he can’t stand the thought of not getting to one of us. Something from the war I guess”

Scorpius shook his head at the thought, not wanting to imagine what could have happened to Ron Weasley to make him fear locked doors so much.

“What happened next?” Scorpius asked.

“Hugo ran and got James. They don’t lock doors at the Potter’s either. By the time James got McGonagall the silencing charms had faded,” she said, wincing slightly.

Scorpius’s eyes widened in horror. “Does that mean-”

She shut her eyes tightly and nodded. “Yes.”

Well shit. He’d obviously wanted people to hear him, that’s why he’d screamed so loudly. But the humiliating reality was beginning to settle over him. All of Gryffindor would know something had happened. They would have heard his screams and cries for mercy. Hell, they’d probably seen his unconscious body being taken to the hospital wing.

“It’s alright though,” Rose tried weakly, already knowing what he was going to say.

“It’s not.”

Her eyes widened at his dangerous expression but she set her chin in determination, desperate to calm him down. “People are going to forget about this soon.”

“You know that that’s not true!” He cried, voice cracking embarrassingly. “This is going to follow me forever! It’ll turn out to be just another reason for people to talk about me.”

“People are going to leave you the hell alone. Al and I will see to that,” she interjected fiercely.

He lowered his head to avoid her eyes, embarrassed that his own were beginning to burn quite painfully. Suddenly his chest felt uncomfortably tight and the lump in his throat became harder to swallow. He would never admit it, but he really wanted his mum.

“You should probably go,” he managed to choke out.

“Scorpius,” she tried, the fire in her still evident.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble for being here. You heard Professor Longbottom, didn’t you?”

“I don’t care if I get in trouble!” She cried defiantly.

“Yeah, well I do,” he snapped. “Just go back to the common room. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She didn’t move, just crossed her arms stubbornly, and sat up a little straighter. Ignoring her, he lifted his hands to rub roughly at his cheeks only to be stopped by the cool air hitting the burned flesh of his arm. Inhaling sharply he rushed to pull the blankets over himself quickly.

Scorpius locked eye contact with Rose and he knew she had seen it too. He could no longer disguise the tears running down his cheeks and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

“Let me see it,” Rose blurted, looking shocked at the sound of her own voice.

Scorpius shook his head quickly, unable to bring himself to look at her. “No.”

For once, she didn't pressure him, just watched as his mind went to war with itself. Hadn't he just admitted to himself earlier that if he were to reveal the full truth of the night to anyone, it would be Rose? Exhaling deeply, he prepared himself for what he was about to do.

Slowly, he peeled back the sleeve of his robe. There it was, the same mark that had been signed into his father’s arm at 16 years old. He was suddenly overcome with the weight of what this meant for him and he leaned over the side of the bed with the trash bin and vomited profusely. He could feel Rose approaching him and his shoulders tensed. She shouldn’t have to see him like this.

“Please leave,” he said quietly.

“Scorpius,” she tried desperately.

“Leave!” He cried as he turned to face her, hot tears spilling down his cheeks.

“No,” she said firmly, jutting her chin out in defiance.

“I don’t need you sticking your nose in my business. I don’t want you here, Rose,” he seethed, practically shaking with anger.

She flinched like she’d been slapped but kept her face neutral. “You don’t mean that.”

Of course, she was right, he didn’t mean it at all. His cheeks flamed as a weak sob escaped him. “Please, Rose.”

She sat on the edge of his bed carefully and looked at him intently. “I’m not leaving you because that’s not what friends do. You’d stay for me, wouldn’t you?”

He nodded feebly and she smiled softly. Silence fell as they both sat lost in thought. Studying her carefully, Scorpius’s heart twisted painfully. She looked much older than fourteen, but then he supposed he did too. They’d both seen and heard more than anyone their age should ever have to.

“I guess this means you can’t steal my jumpers anymore,” Scorpius said lightly as he waved his arm around weakly, trying his hardest to get a smile out of her.

Her head snapped up, eyes blazing. “This isn’t something you need to hide.”

“Of course it is,” he said blankly. It wasn’t as if he could go around flaunting this! He would be terrorized.

“Scorpius, you’ve been so brave today. The mark only proves that.”

He fought back the urge to laugh at his, for he’d never felt more like a little kid in his life. But once again, the unrelenting pain in his left arm sobered him quickly. “Rose, you know what the Dark Mark symbolizes.”

“I do, but I also know the kind of person you are. Zabini is going to wish he’d never crossed you, just you wait.”

This caused Scorpius to laugh. “I can’t wait to see their faces when Albus hears about all of this. He’s going to go ballistic.”

Rose frowned. “Albus won’t be seeing them at all. They’ve been expelled, all three of them.”

Scorpius gaped. “Expelled?”

“You don’t think McGonagall would let them stay after this, do you?”

“I guess not,” he said with a shrug, relief flooding through him. Thank Merlin he wouldn’t ever have to deal with any of them again.

“I even heard somebody mention criminal charges,” Rose continued. “I suppose my uncle will be here soon enough.”

Scorpius cringed. The thought of having to recount the night to Harry Potter seemed exhausting. Rose seemed to sense his feelings though because very gently, she climbed into the cot next to him. Though she would never admit it, her heart had been racing quickly all night due to her boldness in showing her friend that she cared for him. She was exhausted, but the staunch protective streak in her (inherited from her father) said she couldn’t leave Scorpius alone. He said nothing as she settled in bed beside him.

An hour later when Draco and Astoria Malfoy arrived back to the hospital wing with Professor McGonagall and Head Auror Harry Potter, no one could say they were shocked to see Rose curled into Scorpius’s side. After all, they were best friends. But none of the adults were stupid, they knew what was slowly blooming between the pair. The antidote went unspoken.

As the headmistress and auror excused themselves, resolving to instead talk to the young boy in the morning, Draco and Astoria insisted on staying overnight with their son. As they settled into chairs next to his cot, Astoria fell asleep against her husband’s shoulder quite quickly. But not even Merlin himself could coax Draco to sleep that night.

His son had been through the unspeakable all for the sake of his father’s past mistakes. He was enraged, disgusted, and most of all, ashamed. This wasn’t what he had intended for his son, quite the opposite actually.

And though in unnerved Draco to see his son sleeping soundly next to the daughter of people he’d treated quite terribly, it calmed him to know his son knew real friendship, something he himself hadn’t found until well into adulthood. If what Scorpius had said about Rose was true, she really was the daughter of Ron and Hermione Weasley: brilliantly intelligent, fiercely loyal, and wise beyond her years. He couldn’t think of a better friend for his son.

It would take Scorpius time to recover from this, years in fact, but with friends like Weasley and Potter, Draco knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would be alright. His son was a fighter, he needed to be as a Malfoy, and he would prove the world wrong with or without the branding of the Dark Mark. After all, hadn’t Draco done the same?


End file.
